The Darkling’s words came back to me, spoken on a ship that sailed the icy waters of the Bone Road. Morozova was a strange man. He was a bit like you, drawn to the ordinary and the weak. He’d had an otkazat’sya wife. He’d nearly lost an otkazat’sya child. He’d thought himself alone in the world, alone in his power. Now I understood. I saw what he had done. This was the gift of the three amplifiers: power multiplied a thousand times,
